


Kingdom Hearts: Sorrow Minded Shadows

by Siyrex



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aw beans, McElroy Brothers - A universal Constant, Ocs are from a 2017 Based world, Original Character(s), Original Keyblade type weapon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Relax only one of the main ones has a keyblade and she iS GONE MOST OF ThE TIME, Sora and pals are from a 2004 based world, barely beta'd, considering the passage of time, donald and goofy aren't main party members, heartless shouldn't do that, i guess, its a battle thing, its a lock but in gloves, most oc appear in chapter two i lied, ocs appear in chapter two, post kh3, ship avoidance (kinda), soulmate type stuff but platonic, this is more common, this story is going to split following 3 groups
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyrex/pseuds/Siyrex
Summary: Set after Xehanort's defeat this work explores the adventures of the destiny trio, bonds between keyblade wielders and the mysterious locksmiths, and the mutating creatures of darkness.But mostly is just goofs





	1. The Beginning

Going to the island today, that was Kairi’s idea, she wanted, well all three of us wanted, to see where all our lives changed. Not where this change had begun, that was a few different places, for all of us, but where it was first the most noticeable. The raft was still there, though reinforced, weighted to avoid tipping and tethered by chains in the water to a large log, now used as a platform to play pirate for younger kids, or as a diving board/ relaxation pad for the teens, though mostly when it’s later at night for celebrations, lit up with string lights and lanterns.

 

There’s a lot of those around the island now, it gets more foot traffic, urban myths about doors to other worlds, of princesses and star-bound warriors fueling the curiosities of young minds, myths that few people know are anything but, especially the three of us.

The secret area’s originally exit was blocked off, being too dangerous to leave open like that, instead, a new entrance was created on the backside of the island, which has no dock, and is harder to access, unless you know where you are going.

Selphie, Tidus, Wakka, and all the older teens, young adults? know, they kinda had to know, know why we disappeared, why and how they forgot, what we did, what’s in the cave, because it’s safer that way, and that, if they can get there and something goes wrong, they can lead people there and leave Destiny Island, until we can bring it back if we can. King Mickey was kind enough to leave a second Gummi ship behind for us to use, with a decent amount of room for a good few handfuls of people to board, if we need it, and I hope we never do.

 

But today there is something else… different… about the island, something in the air, like an indescribable smell, or feeling, taste to the air, something, about today that’s not off-putting as much as is… is… … …

 

… … … familiar? But not too familiar. And I can see it on Riku’s face, but not Kairi’s, her eyes doesn’t have that flicker they usually do, when she find recognises something, but is she worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, like when a thought is just barely out of reach.

 

Before either of us could ask, Kairi crouches down and picks up something from the waters edge, lifting up a single glass bottle with a rolled up letter inside. Turning it around in her hands she looks for the familiar seal of the king, as Riku and I step closer, but instead she finds a waxy pink seal, with the image of a cat, one eye crossed out, the other a spade. Puzzled, the three of us retreat to the old crooked palm, Riku leaning onto it, eyes closed as I jump onto its trunk. Kairi stands in front of us, uncorks the bottle, taps out the paper, runs her thumb over the seal, eyes furrowed as she worries her bottom lip.

 

Taking care not to ruin the seal as she opens the letter, she unscrolls it, reading it to herself before repeating it to us, in the dwindling light, sunset framing her form.

 

“Dear Princess Flowers (and her fellow island-dwelling keybladers),

 

Sorry I never wrote, didn’t have the words, didn’t have the time, though I suppose I have time now, so let hope I have words too, okay?

Remember the stories your Grandma told you, She told me too after, and more. Key warriors, they weren’t the only force against the darkness, something even they did not know.

There were others taught by an old Master, in weapons he forged himself, a companion to the keys, locks built in gauntlets, that allowed these new warriors to seal hearts of worlds, though she gave the story more vibrance, in her poetic prose. And like the one she told you, for your future, how she wasn’t a physic I’ll never know, this story was for me and mine, and a lot more real than we both thought.

But that’s enough about our past, have you been to Traverse Town recently? It’s quite lovely this time of year, to bad the skies a little baren, as of late. Still though, nice to interact with it this time.

Oh and before I forget, keyblade wielders and lock gauntlet users are bound, so when one, usually the keyblade wielder, becomes a master, so to does the other, keep that in mind won’t you.

 

Yours Sincerely,

Locksmith Master Alley Cat.”

 

The more Kairi read, the more the her eyes flashed with recognition, tears at the mention of her grandmother, mirth at ‘Alley Cat’s’ thoughts on the convenience of the stories, and finally worry at the final passage.

 

“Kairi,” I pushed myself forward slightly, curious “Who is Alley Cat?”

“A scruffy, cat loving girl named Max.” A fond smile graces her face.

“She was a strange one, there for a week, gone for the next two, said she was only a visitor but never said from where.”

 

Riku pushes off of the palm, the old tree creaking in protest, before stalking behind Kairi and gently taking the letter from her grasp. Reading through the note himself, the same wave of familiarity washes over him, as his eyes flicker to a piercing steel grey that seem to glow his normal seafoam, not shifting back even as he looks back at the two of us, confusion obvious in his face.

“What’s this last line mean?” He asks, pointing at a section of the page.

“Riku, there’s nothing there”

“It’s right there, can’t you see it?” he insists, brow furrowed.

 

He turns the page towards me, the strange flicker that changed his eyes returns, his eyes now their normal hue, as previously hidden text (not that I knew it was hidden) appears in the scrawling, messy handwriting. A joking, smug voice echoes from the page, evoking the same indescribable familiarity, as the letter falls from Riku’s hand, his face pale.

  


_“Oh and before I forget, keyblade wielders and lock gauntlet users are bound, so when one, usually the keyblade wielder, becomes a master, so to does the other, keep that in mind won’t you.”_


	2. Traverse Town Beatdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a frog, a swan, and a stoat commit a serious beatdown against heartless in new traverse town, because it just be like that sometimes

The flight to Traverse Town was tense, though uneventful, save for finding the location of a missing star, missing world, mourning its loss.

Landing in Traverse Town was a bit more lively, more so than when Sora and Riku first visited, people, walking to and fro, most tables at the dinner filled, stalls taking up sections of the courtyard, the Jewelry store spilling out onto the street, its new owner joking with the customers.

Landing was also a lot more difficult, a large collection of ships of various sizes and colours parked outside, and several pairs of people motioning the ships coming and going, including the trio’s ship.

 

The new townsfolk seemed to know and recognize the trio, clapping them on the shoulder as they walked past, others called out friendly greetings to the three. One man came up to them introducing himself as the former mayor of Iris Beach, the same place where most of the people now living here come from. He also tells them that they should reacquaint themselves with Traverse Town parting with an “In between worlds and all, never how you left them.”

 

The Second district was larger, wider than before, it too filled with more shops, stall, and people, looking more like an open market center, the hotel still where it was, but the clothing store has moved to the lower level, which is now taller with covered pathways between the extended and taller arches, which are now more than mere decorations in the wall. Many of the lower stores sell food, both groceries and ready to eat, the latter having tables filled with students, both primary and secondary, though the older teens don’t seem to be wearing uniforms like the rest, the bags they carry and snippets of conversation giving them away. Where the old gizmo shop now stood a formal looking garden, extending backwards, much, much further than the rest of the buildings, leading into fourth and fifth districts, now on the left and right of the garden respectively, with an incredibly tall building, at very least 6 stories high, at which even more student loiter around, eating their lunch, or playing while waiting for the bell atop to toll for them to return to class.

The alleyway to the Third district now looks to be a modern lane-way, with cafes, a florist, and small but high-end and hip businesses on alternating sides, with the blank faces of way covered with street art, plant life and light strings wrapped around rustic wooden arches, built around the works, doorways and windows, and finally open and ornate black iron-wrought gates with pseudo vines, lilies and robins depicted in each side of the gates, an equal black sign above it with the words ‘Lily Robin Lane-way’ written in golden text.

At the very end of the lane, carefully stenciled street art depicts four individuals, the upper individual, a girl with her arms up in preparation for a brawl is silhouetted in the image of a coral pink cat, the same cat from the stamp, though in the black space of the spade eye is the image of a lock.

On the bottom, in deep blue is a swan in flight, the silhouette of this one another girl, elegant as she cast magic from her keyblade, an elegant old-fashioned thing that catches the eyes of the trio, who murmur about this development as a cafe owner tries to get their business with an offer of a discount for all they have done.

The left, a green frog simply sitting only covering up half of the silhouette,the boys lower half  and the lower half of his sword that is stuck in the ground next to him, the rest of him and his sword, which stops barely below his shoulder, is in the same green, as the figure looks off to the side, hand resting on the hilt  of the imposing, but decently sized blade, unlike the impractical blades of two moody individuals they know.

The final individual, in a pale shade of purple, arches a stoat, the short-tailed weasel half circling the third girl, her body contorted as if part way through a flip, a section of her arm and a small blade being this works the only silhouette as a second looks to be just leaving her hand.

Underneath the street art, barely off the bottom of the wall, is four titles, written in their four respective colours, in what the trio assume is their four respective handwriting.

‘The Key Dancer’

‘The Frog Knight’

‘The Dramatic Rogue’

‘The Alley Cat’

Before a matching, but more study gate lead into the next district.

 

Walking into the third district, Sora and Riku were disappointed to find that it was exactly the same.

 

This included the heartless.

 

What was different were the three figures fighting, and much to the confusion to the newcomers, _taunting_ the heartless, with a small collection of people standing there, cheering of all things.

 

And apparently, they were also fighting a few rogue dusk that had made their way here.

 

Flipping through the air was a small, maroon haired girl, not too dissimilar to the purple stenciled girl, her pale purple scarf fluttered about her neck as the knife from her hand dispatched a soldier, the blade sinking in between its eyes. She lands, dashing to the weapon, drawing another and spinning herself, slashing it across the back of another, the dropping low to scoop up the weapon, stabbing it into the neck of a dusk before twisting it out. Bouncing back on the balls of her feet, she looks around alert as she quickly brushes some dirt off of her light grey shirt, her brown-hazel eyes dart briefly to Sora, then Riku, lingering on Kairi, giving a friendly, roguish half-smile, quickly pushing her short messy bang from her eyes as she returns to her fast-paced fighting. Another flip allows for the three to see a purple arrow on her left, five circles expose the normal cloth of the shirt, as well as a short pair of black shorts over the top of her space patterned leggings, the _obvious_ height of fashion, and a pair of scruffy these-were-once-white canvas shoes, the kind with a plastic coat over the toes, that should be falling to bits but must be held together by some cosmic duct tape.

 

Not far from her is the young man, the two-handed sword swung not effortlessly, but with practiced finesse and obvious signs of his training echoed in the strength behind swings, as he pushes the largest adversary, a large body, towards a wall away from the crowd, his focus tied to the battle at hand. Facing away from most people, all of his that is visible being the back of his head, fluffy brown hair cropped to have an undercut, keeping the hair off his neck, his over-sized bomber jacket and it’s equally over-sized cream hood, long black shirt peeking underneath. Another powerful strike shows a patch on his arm, with a three-eyed frog, and the glasses on his face, as well as a quick glance of his dark brown eyes. His pants, near identical in design to Sora’s, are much less baggy and stop just below his knees. Somewhat tall white socks contrast his olive skin and lead down to a pair of brown, slip-on canvas oh-god-I-thought-they-were-loafers shoes.

 

These two are the peak of fashion, clearly.

 

Unlike the _totally un_ fashionable third party, a caramel haired girl, braided with _non-_ strategic bangs, with green-hazel, donning a loose dark blue lace jacket, _un_ fashionable of the shoulders, with equally _un_ fashionable dark grey cloth wrapped around her hips to fall _un_ gracefully to the side her knees, totally _not_ chic black shorts and nearly knee-high boots, and _dis_ gracefully _un_ fashionable sleeveless midnight blue sun-top yoke combination bodice with lace crawling _in_ delicately to the base of her neck, a strip of the same fabric curled around her upper left arm.

 

Yes, totally unfashionable.

 

Regardless of anyone's’ taste in fashion, it was clear to see her proficiency in battle, deft swings with her keyblade, that cleave more, but not entirely, effortlessly through the gathering of shadowy beasts, though that maybe be because of the weapon itself. Deeply concentrated, covering her friends’ backs in brief moments of weakness, so small most would not see it. Out of the three fighters, she would be the palest, and most practiced of the three. Then not two minutes from the island-dwelling trio’s arrival, the fight was swiftly finished, and the three fighters dismiss themselves with a bow, linking arms with the keybladers in a conspiratorial manner, with some level of a smirk adorning their faces.

 

The smaller girl, the one in purple disconnects herself from between Kairi and Sora, and start walking backward in front of the group of five.

 

“Hi, I’m Darcy, your roguishly charming tour guide, though ‘New’ Traverse Town.”

She over dramatically air quotes ‘New’, somehow aware of its difference, but doesn’t elaborate.

“To your left there in the greeny brown attire, that’s Daniel, affectionately named frog sword boy, and to your right, between Sora and Riku, Iona.”

 

Turning back around, in the courtyard of the second district, Darcy points out a few places and people, best stores for a quick stop for food, and the store on the corner that has “Such appalling service it's a miracle they have customers”

 

“To the left of the garden, is obviously, The Fourth district, mostly residential, nothing majorly exciting,” Darcy continues, now facing the five again, sweeping her hand in that direction, before using the other to motion to the other side “where the right and Fifth district has your post office, town hall, the bigger shops, and of course, is where we live and…”

She brings her hands back towards herself, balled her right hand holding it near her mouth.

“... Should be where lil ol’ Maxxie girl is.”  Darcy coyly finishes, stomping off comically with an enthusiastic and goofy “Lets, goooooo!” while Iona and Daniel free themselves, walking off and shaking their heads slightly at their friend's action, and motioning the Destiny Trio to follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE BOYS! ARE! HERE! BAD FASHION FROG BOY, HIGH FASHION SWAN GIRL, FAST STABBY STOAT GIRL. BUT WHERES THE PUNCH CAT MAGE?  
> But for reals Maximum (yes thats her real name) was meant to be in this chapter but just, didn't?  
> Anyways uhhhhhhhhhh thanks


	3. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonds, like phantom limbs, feelings, pain, they are dangerous and fickle. Sealing oneself off does not guarantee that the pain will also be sealed, sealing oneself off with an enemy, unable to attack them, does guarantee pain.
> 
> Run.
> 
> Help her.
> 
> The darkness has changed.

Bickering, friendly banter, and annoyed rants over the stupid complexity of time travel, the three warriors who had assimilated us into their rowdy gang, had their true colours come to light while we searched for the missing master. Daniel, seemingly joining the ranks of the brooding swordsmen, became a rambunctious conversational leader, driving the topics as well as, to a degree, the direction which we walked.

 Iona was instead the silent type, though less broody and more tired, and when that was mentioned to her, brought to light her chronic sleep-deprivation, thoroughly explaining her nature in an off-handed statement.

And while normally more toned down, Darcy was, basically the same. Although she expresses a tendency to create phrases and sayings, which initially sound real, putting more than a moments thought into, are clearly fake and making fun of someone.

Kairi and Sora, in the brief time we had known them, rapidly wove into their jokes, their banter, their obscure references that apparently stemmed from three brothers,  though these 'MackleRoys' are pretty damn hilarious it seems.

But this driving, drilling, scraping sensation in my... is it my head... or my heart I can't... it hurts... everything keeps flashing from where I am to somewhere else. Max? Is that you... what's happening... darkness... this is wrong. Why does it look like that? Which one of us is screaming... is it both of us. Max!? I need to find her, she's hurting, bleeding... I can feel it drip but my fingers keep coming back dry.

 

Max.

 

Their hands are on me, my friends, her friends, the darkness... why it like that. It's too much.

I can feel them tugging at me as she is lifted off the ground, the abnormal clawed hand digging, crushing, her heart echoes in my chest... it's my heart that hurts.

The road turned golden, shimmering light, I can't feel her being lifted, the rough ground under her hands and she pours her magic, crafting walls of chains and gold along the ground to rise.

And they rise, four walls, triangular to a point, creating a pyramid, cast in chains, and it roars from somewhere in its inky mass.

 

Her heart echoes along mine, thrumming, we are so close, the wounds inflicted upon her cutting deep into my own flesh, and I know cannot heal it, not yet.

 Her memories of the first time we crossed paths, following behind myself, forced to be a spirit beside me when I could not hear her or choose not too. Her protests when I followed the orders of Maleficent, and of how she screamed as I fought against my friend, her tearing at the tethers that bound Ansem to me, her cheers at my defiance, and a promise known only to her, as she parted from me at the steps of Castle Oblivion.

In a path created in her binding walls, by Iona's and Sora's blades, I rushed forward to a weakened body, under strain from relentless attacks.

Voice barely above a whisper, I called her name.

Her hair, apparently dyed coral pink if her blonde roots were any indication, were plastered against her forehead with sweat and drying blood, steel grey eyes, which had been unnervingly focused at the mutated darkness, softened as she looked at me, a confident and reassuring smile growing.

Tugging at the band around her neck as if a habit, the velvet chocker a few shade off from matching her hair, her grin turned playfully smug, healing both of us with a silent spell.

"Hey Silver, think ya up for some fightin'?"

Pulling her up from her spot on the ground, I took a moment to take in the gauntlet baring warrior I was bound too.

Her shirt, a cropped tank-top, was yet another shade of pink, this one more pastel but not completely, partially covered by a cargo jacket, let to fall off one shoulder. A cream patch just below her right shoulder bears a pink cat, exactly the same as the seal, with the words 'ALLEY CAT" stitched above it. Blue jeans with washed out knees barely cover her shoes, same style as Darcy's, but intact and the same shade as her top.

"Shall we give them a show?" she questions after we have apparently mutually taken each other in.

Her smile and mine become sly, as the excess magic removes the last specks of blood and grime, leave a new set of small, shimmering scars.

"Let's"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHE IS HERE. THE GIRL.  
> (and the fight scene the i had planned to be in the first chapter but shhhhhhh thats a secret)


End file.
